Just when I think that particular goal might get met, I hear the squeak of a door. It doesn't register enough for me to stop my assault on the bag, since there are plenty of people always walking around here off-hours. But when the door to the bag room swings open, I finally glance at the stairs.
And promptly go cold all over when I see Hailey standing on the landing.
I stop the heavy bag in place right before it swings back and almost knocks me off my feet.
I can't take my eyes off her.
Part of me is worried that I've either lost my mind or finally worked my body to exhaustion enough that I'm hallucinating. Because it doesn't make sense that she's here. And it doesn'tlooklike Hailey.
She's still beautiful, just as beautiful as she's always been. Her blue eyes are shining, never moving away from me as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and steps forward to lean on the railing overlooking this room. Physically, she looks like herself.
It's her aura that's different.
Those same blue eyes now hold an unwavering sense of confidence. Those pink lips that I've kissed senseless and fantasized about every day are surrounded by smile lines. And that body that I've worshipped with awe and devotion, now exudes a sense of self-assured grace that Princess Diana would be proud of.
She's fucking breathtaking.
Between my workout and Hailey's appearance, I'm literally breathless. My chest is heaving with the effort to take in the oxygen that I desperately need right now.
She just stares at me, not quite smiling, but definitely not looking sad either. Just... thoughtful.
After a few moments—and after I've somehow managed to catch my breath—her lip finally lifts into a tiny smile.
"Hi," she whispers.
My heart goes from a thousand miles per hour to flatline with just that one word.
"Hi," I manage to reply.
Without taking her eyes off me, she pushes off the railing and starts down the stairs. I don't think I breathe the entire time. When she finally stops in front of me, I have to remind myself to take a breath so I don't pass out before I figure out what she's doing here.
I haven't seen her in three months—other than that one time at the bar and my occasional stalking outside the café—and I can't bring myself to guess why she's here. Over the weeks, I convinced myself that she would've come back to me already if she wanted to, and since she hasn't, that obviously means she's gotten over me. That what we had wasn't as important to her as it was to me. So right now, it definitely feels like too much to hope for that she's here for me. It's more likely she wants closure between us.
She just watches me as these thoughts flit through my head, and I swear she can actually hear them. Her eyes begin to shine with a hint of sadness. And when she starts talking, there's sadness laced in her words.
"I hated you at first," she says quietly. "I didn't understand why you had left me, or how it could've been so easy for you."
My eyes widen, and I open my mouth to refute that any of this waseasy. But she stops me by placing a hand on my arm. And that small contact is enough to make my heart stutter, enough to make me have to fight dropping to my knees and begging her forgiveness.
She keeps talking.
"I was mad at Remy too. I was mad at everyone. I felt ganged up on and like I was being treated like I was this broken, fragile child. I felt worse than I did with Steve."
A pained sound breaks out of my chest at that. I open my mouth to try again to interrupt her, but this time she steps closer and puts her hand on my chest. She's so close to me that I could lean forward slightly and brush my lips across her forehead, just like I've done thousands of times before and like I'm practically shaking to do now.
I know she's trying to tell me something but I can't let her go on without saying, "I never meant to hurt you. You have to believe me, Hailey. I've only ever wanted—"
She cuts me off with a whispered, "Jax, please."
I swallow the whimper that wants to slip out when she utters those words. My heart feels like it's being shredded in the face of her admission of pain, and it takes everything in me not to start talking again. But I take a deep, trembling breath and nod for her to continue.
She waits until she knows I'm ready to listen before she starts again. "It killed me when you left. Not just because you left me but because I hated being without you. You weren't just my best friend, you wereJax." For the first time since she walked in, her composure seems to stumble, and her voice cracks when she says, "A part of me died inside when you left."
I choke on a cry and lean forward to press my forehead against hers. I can only whisperI'm sorryover and over again as we stand there, leaning on each other in our vulnerability.
She moves her hand from where it never strayed off my chest, to cup my face in her palm, pulling back slightly so she can look at me. Tears glisten in her eyes, but they never fall, and then I see her shield of strength snap back into place.
"But then I realized you never would've done it without a good reason," she starts again, her gaze never leaving mine. "My whole life, you've always been my protector. You shielded me from every harm, big or small, because that's who you are. You never would have hurt me unless it was to keep me from an even bigger hurt."